


The Length to Separation is 50 Lightyears long

by mutedweather



Category: Gintama
Genre: 'no children under 17 should be admitted', F/M, I'm shameless, Rating: NC17, Smut, actually i think you can read this at 16, but this one is really short, i wrote sex again, idk what this rating actually means lmao, ok i just googled it's an american rating system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutedweather/pseuds/mutedweather
Summary: I'm sorry this is short butThe love between Takasugi Shinsuke and Tsukuyo is real





	The Length to Separation is 50 Lightyears long

**Author's Note:**

> IDK what the fck is my title.

No one can tell him the colour of dusk. No one can describe its beauty the way he sees it: a warm, mellowed pink, blending into a sea of vast orange. The kind of orange that’s just like the scattered momiji printed on her dark-coloured kimono. The kind that makes him think, _ah – that’s her. She’s a drop of golden sun, on a sheet of navy-night._ No one can tell him what kind of woman he should see her as.

They can tell him to quit smoking. _It’s bad for health, bad for your teeth, and definitely bad for kissing, Shinsuke,_ Bansai says. He considers taking the advice seriously. Especially if it affects kissing.

But then he remembers that _she_ smokes, too, and, and – he thinks it’s been a rather intoxicating experience.

They can tell him to decrease his probiotic cultured milk intake. _It’s not bad for health, Shinsuke, but…wouldn’t you consider spending that money elsewhere? Like nine hundred and ninety nine roses or a ceiling of wisterias, for example._ Point taken. He had read somewhere that nine hundred and ninety nine roses convey an expression of eternal love. Imagine that. _Eternal love._ A love that lives on beyond the crumbling dust of a dead planet and long after the death of an exploding star.

Anyway, the idea certainly appeals to him.

They can even tell him to stop wearing the fundoshi he painstakingly puts on every day. _It’s…uh…I’m not criticizing your choice of fashion, and I’ll be honest with you, Shinsuke – I wear it too – but the truth is, very few women find them attractive._

He can’t agree. Because? Because. Just the other night, when they were all cuddled up on the couch with cozy blankets and comforters and hot tea, she said to him, her soft hand over his hardening crotch – _Shinsuke, the fundoshi really does accentuate your….penny bun mushroom._ My what? _Your king oyster mushroom._

Ahem. He will let that one comment about fundoshis being unattractive slide.

 _She’s a demon,_ someone had said once, earning a glare from Shinsuke. _I mean – she sure matches the first character you use for Ki-he-tai._ A more piercing, sharper glare was given. _I mean it as a compliment._ And that was how he reluctantly spared their life.

 _She must be a man-eater, right? Look at that face and that body!_ Was the exact line Shinsuke had heard some of the girls said when he was walking in town one day. _Kyaaa! Who are you! Why are you drawing your sword! W-we aren’t saying anything bad about Tsukuyo! Who’s that? We’re talking about Xia Ying Chun in the movie Zhong Wu Yen!_

Absolutely no one can tell him what kind of woman she is. Because he’s the only one who knows what she’s really like.

 

x-x-x

 

“Tsukuyo…” he says, panting heavily amidst his voracious kisses all over the crook and cranny of her neck.

“What,” she asks, her breathing rate escalating. She edges her body upwards on the bed, and pushes his head down, down onto her large, heaving breasts.

“Tell me what you want.”

His fingers clutch onto one breast, fondling her aggressively. Mouth quickly cups the other breast, strong tongue flicking around her nipple, stimulating her wetness down below. She gasps.

“I want your, your –” her soft voice jolts into an excited moan as his mouth cups the other breast. He sucks.

“My what?” He asks between sucking and licking, rousing her nipple into rigidity.

She lets out a high-pitched moan. “Your…nngh!” She runs her fingers through his scalp, grabbing tufts of his hair by the fistfuls.

“My penny bun?” He says breathily. She feels him smiling as he brushes his lips upon her skin.

“Your penny bun.” Her voice drops to a small whimper.

“My king oyster?”

“Your king oyster,” she whines, hands running down his back. “…Is it cooked yet?”

 _Huh?_ He sucks a bit too hard.

“Aaahh~!”

_‘Is it cooked yet?’_

He stops momentarily.

_Who asks that?_

“...Is it cooked yet, Shinsuke?” She shifts her hips under him, and her breasts bounce slightly.

_I heard it the first time, woman._

“I want to eat it, Shinsuke,” she says, as she slowly parts her mouth open, the tip of her tongue leisurely sweeps her bottom lip from one corner to the other. He can feel her slowly spreading her legs open under him.

At that exact moment, Shinsuke tells himself that he knows this woman. This woman has killed men. Crippled men. Men who disrepected women. Men who disrespected _her._ This woman, who is the commanding voice behind an all-women para-military force in a heavily guarded city, has never flinched under duress. And yet, and yet – this woman, just what the fuck –

_Eat it raw? Elizabethshit. She wants my mushroom in the oven now. She’s begging me._

“Shinsuke~~~” she whines his name, like a little kitten pleading to be petted; spreading her arms wide on the bed, baring her all to him. “Hurry~”

His confusion abruptly leaves him. He looks at her, his gaze growing increasingly fiery with lust. His mouth goes straight for hers, tongue lashing inside, sweeping her teeth, fighting with her tongue. He devours her red lips hungrily.

He slips inside her. The first plunge is like a dive from the top of a rocky cliff into tropical warm waters. She cries loudly at the intrusion. The pressure sucks him in, like a howling wind. She’s wetter and more slippery than a seal rolling in oil. He grips her waist with both his hands. Steadying his hips, and maintaining the rhythm of his violent thrusts, he pumps in and out of her like a roaring piston through a chamber. Each time he bangs in, her walls contract, hugging his cock snugly, fueling him further to the edge of orgasm.

“Aah, aah!! Aaah, Shinsuke!”

He knows this woman. She prefers it rough, she likes it wild, and she wants him to take her to Heaven. And like a rapacious, insatiable sadist, he will gleefully oblige.

"Aaaaah~~~!!"

 

x-x-x

 

No one can tell her the colour of dawn. They can try, but no one can tell her the hope she sees in the rising of the sun: An expansive ray of shimmering light dissolving darkness into hues of purples and blues. The kind of dark purple that’s just like his hair. That hair, which she grips on so tightly when they – nevermind.

No one can tell her the kind of man to fall in love with. _He should be nice, Tsukuyo. If he’s handsome then it is a plus. If he’s rich, ho ho ho, then it’s a surplus!_ That’s an awfully lame joke, Tsukuyo thinks, but says nothing. He kind of – fits in those categories. 

 _Is he romantic?_ She considers her answer to that question to be yes. 

They can tell her to be a better cook. _He probably wouldn’t like you very much if you can’t cook._ What? Isn’t he supposed to be rich? And has a kitchen of twelve chefs? So she doesn’t have to cook? _Well, that’s true – but what if he wants to eat some simple homemade curry? A child’s dekoben?_ And Tsukuyo mutters under her breath, but she considers the advice for now.

 _Shinsuke’s a real demon. He looks too fierce! He has an insane look and a murderous smile!_ That may be all true. But she knows what kind of man he is. He is the only man who can move fleets of spaceships in a deadlock war. A man who has killed hundreds for his quest to seek destruction after going through a harrowing, soul-stripping experience. A man who has mended his ways. A man who is completely putty in her hands.

She knows she only has to show a bit of toes and, and – it always leads to both of them showing more skin to each other, and then - and then  **beforetheyknowittheyaredoingthebangbangbang.**

Right. Okay. That was some speed-charging speech. Where was she? Right.

No one can tell her the kind of man Shinsuke is. _I mean, yes, I know everyone has flaws. But you see - don't you think his flaws are kind of apparent?_ Her response to that was nothing short of scathing. Oi, do you wish to have your life span shortened by several years or your body parts scattered through several yards? 

No one can tell her the kind of man that can give her happiness. Because she knows what his heart is like. Because she knows that she has found him.

 

 

END

 


End file.
